Past, Present, and Fate
by Nuclear Kitty
Summary: Song encounters Zuko in the streets of Bae Sing Sae. Set after Lake Laogai. However there aren't any real spoilers. Song x Zuko End is posted!
1. Past

Disclaimer: Avatar and all its characters do not belong to me.

Past

A sigh vibrated through her when she saw him.

At first she paid no attention to him as she stood in the market. She casually looked at the food as he piled some into a bag. His profile held familiarity.

"Do I know you?" she asked as he handed coins to the selling woman.

His gold eyes swiveled to her fearfully and she was struck with recognition. He backed away and held up his hands.

"No you're wrong." he stated as the scar around his left eye confirmed her thoughts. _Does he not remember me?_

"You're…" she start to say as he turned and fled. The words died on her lips.

Her hazel eyes felt heavy as they trailed after his form. She remembered to inhale as he rounded a corner and she brushed her bangs aside as well as to brush calming fingertips on her pulsing head. Adjusting her blouse and her mind, she broke the sudden revere with a sprint. Her breath grew haggard as she turned the corner. Nothing.

She glanced towards the shadows and shook all over. She placed her convulsing body against the wall. The hard building lent little comfort, but it managed to steady her.

As she collected her wits she reasoned why this phantom appeared before her. She rotated so now her back leaned against the wall, closed her weary eyes, and rubbed her skin prickling with disappointment. A voice chimed throughout the hall and her ears turned towards the noise. She forcefully composed herself.

"Hello" she heard herself say as she looked in the direction he would appear.

"Song!" A woman called.

Song sagged with a curious mixture of relief and disappointment.

"I'm here mother." she said positioning herself near the exit.

"What are you doing in there." her mother asked. Her own tired eyes locked with her daughter's. "You're all I have left." she gently reminded her.

Song nodded.

Her mother's unwavering concern unnerved her and she turned away.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Song flinched, but continued to look towards the shadows.

"I thought I saw someone."

"Well come along. It's getting to dark." Song felt another sight penetrate her as she slowly faced the exit. As she turned she swore a pair of gold eyes met her's. Trembling she touched the uneven short hair feeling self-conscious. Perhaps he couldn't recognize her now. Her mother wrapped her arm around her shoulders and steered her out of the alley.

She knew she couldn't possibly escape the motherly prison, and she knew she couldn't pursue him. Their time was past.

Author's Note:

Tsk. tsk. My muse must be on holiday. This bit of writing came from watching the new episode Lake Laogai on You Tube. My God that was a great episode! A lot of characters seemed to have grown their hair and it made me wonder what would happen if the opposite happened.

What if Zuko couldn't recognize Song? Then viola this piece came about. I hope this piece was enjoyed.

Nuclear Kitty


	2. Present

Present

"Song!"

Disbelief overcame him when he heard her name.

Her short hair swept across her pale cheeks and her eyes fluttered uncontrollably like a monarch on caffeine- until those large hazel eyes met his.

His eyes felt bloodshot as he lost the motor function to close his eyes. He just stared.

She barely looked at him. Or so it seemed.

She gracefully moved her body in a perfect semicircle and all he could see was her back. He forced his eyes to close. He eased into a squatting position farther into the shadows.

His chest muscles relaxed when he heard the footsteps. He listened with tentative ears to the last lingering steps. Only then did he regard his thoughts on the present. Why was she here now? Why did she have short hair?

He grimaced as his calves protested with the strain. Groaning, he pressed his free hand into the wall in order to alleviate the cramp claiming his muscle. He crept towards the exit with grinded teeth. He was thankful no one could see him in his current position.

Curiosity claimed him again as the pain receded. He threw up caution and fled through the streets. Would he ever see her again? With a snort, he dismissed his thoughts and continued his uneven gait. Why did he want to see her again?

He caught his breath when he made it to the picturesque home.

He checked the bag full of fruit, and as the aroma reached his nostrils, he decided they were unharmed. Lugging the bag like the weight on his heart, he entered the house.

"Good evening nephew!" The plump man jollily gulping tea greeted him by knocking the table over with his girth.

"Mmph" he muttered in hello.

"So you got the fruit?" The man encouraged. He noted his disheveled appearance with a grin.

His nephew did not answer. He knew he did not have to.

"excellent." The old man murmured as the young man dumped the contents on the table.

His sausage like hands clutched the circular object. His nephew began to trudge to his room.

"Would you like one Prince Zuko?" He tempted. His eyebrow rose at his nephew's silence. Zuko's face burned scarlet and his face betrayed indignation.

"No." he said hollowly and shut his door.

The old man nodded and savored an immense bite. He glanced at the white flowers thriving in the pot by the corner while he enjoyed the heaven-sent fruit.

Perhaps there would be some use for them after all.

At the same time, Zuko fell on the mattress and forced relaxation.

Long into the night when he shifted his weight on his back and pretenses finally peeled away, his subconscious brought back the present.

He wanted to see her again. Would he want to see her come morning? His independent nature forced him to think not.

_Could she forgive the past? _

Author's note:

Wow I can't really believe I decided to continue this fic! I have to thank Mappadouji for encouraging me to continue.

Thanks also to MormonMaiden for the review as well.


	3. Fate

Fate

"Nephew I need you to watch the shop for a moment."

"I…" the young man protested, but his uncle was gone. He rolled his eyes at the man's surprising speed.

He grabbed the hated items knowing it was near closing.

When he stepped in, he finally saw why his Uncle abandoned him.

Her cheeks became unbearable until she tipped her chin down; she hoped her brown hair could conceal her embarrassment.

He pretended he could not see the only shorthaired woman in the shop who remained futile in masking her discomfort.

He bit his tongue absently and continued his service.

"Thank you." An elderly man thanked him.

He mumbled the required curtsey and continued the deliveries.

The hairs at the base of his neck prickled at her proximity, but he continued walking like a condemned man focused on everything but the scaffold. Again, his instinct called for him to run.

He could not avoid her anymore.

He shuffled towards her cautiously.Her lips formed a hesitant smile, which he did not find easy to reciprocate. It felt more like a grimace when guilt reclaimed him.

"Can I help you?"

Her mouth twitched. It had been the first thing she had ever asked him. He had seemed so reluctant to ask for help back then. She shook her head at the irony, but he had an eyebrow raised at her silence.

"Hi." She said breaking the tension. "What do you have here?"

He recited the list with his face crinkling in disgust with each word.

She told him her request and he dashed off to the back.

When he returned she gestured for him to sit. He looked like he would rather die.

After he took a seat, she watched him expectantly. He folded his arms across his chest inanely refusing to start the conversation. She sighed.

"You've changed." She prodded.

He nodded.

"You have too." His eyes met her's boldly.

This time she frowned.

"Yes" she said looking away.

Now his curiosity was piqued. He looked at her hair to discern the truth for himself.

She wore her shoulder length hair with a green ribbon, but he still could not determine the cause of change.

He did not know she lost her long hair because of him.

"I'm sorry." He said louder than he intended. Her hazel eyes were astounded.

"For what?" she asked.

"That I stole from you." He amended. The words sounded lame even to his own ears. He strummed the table wishing to break the unbearable silence.

She softened her expression.

"I forgive you." Driven by sudden impulse, she placed her hand on his.

He didn't pull away.

Her palm felt the scars etched on his otherwise smooth skin. She drew her tingling hand back after a moment.

He used his hand to muse his ebony hair.

They chatted like acquaintances for a while.

From his hiding place, Iroh heard everything, and he was pleased with his handiwork.

It was "fate".

Author's Note:

Wow what a fan response! Thanks to Mappadouji, Tenniyo, Kayanora, and Egglette for your reviews.

I am sorry that I did not go into depth about Song's haircut. Maybe I'll decide to add more after I watch the next episode (I was thinking of a piece entitled future...)

Nuclear Kitty


	4. End

Note: I've been experiencing a kind of writer's block with the next chapter, so I've decided to rewrite this chapter and include elements of the next. enjoy!

Aroma Therapy

The atmosphere suffocated him that very night. That was his excuse.

His uncle's incessant grin wore his nerves away, but more tiring was his rendition of

"Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall  
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall  
Four seasons, Four loves  
Four seasons for love".

That hastened his need to get away.

He was unreachable now.

His door was blocked with furniture and his lamps were dowsed. The only light came off the few candles lit around him.

He inhaled the fragrance in attempt to keep his mind empty while the flames bowed in mock deference.

When his mind became too focused on meditation, his eyelids flickered open and settled on the flame.

He fought to control the sudden impulse to fire bend.

It was too risky.

With this vulnerability, he fought to suppress images of his turbulent past. He closed his ears to his mother's plea for help, he numbed the feeling of pain which surged through him when his father burned him, and he dissipated the sight of his uncle struck with blue fire.

With his fingernails digging deep into his hands, he regained control.

But drowsiness began to steal over him. Two images would then surface. Both contained a girl with hazel eyes. The first's cinnamon hair was swept into a mused ponytail. He didn't think of her long.

The other wore her cropped dark hair to her shoulders.

The latter's sweet, unassuming face lingered.

He shook his head violently to regain control.

He didn't want anything to tie him down in the city, but he distrusted himself around her.

She unnerved him.

Tranquility became an impossible task. He couldn't control himself any longer.

He closed his eyes with a sudden thought.

What did he want?

He would be grumpy the next day.

---

In a similar setting that same girl readied for night.

The pink shift bore damp spots where her hair had rested, but she wore a refreshing smile uncommon in the war-torn times.

She dipped her fingers into a jar. The healing substance was then rubbed on and around marks that wove like ribbons on her slight legs.

Her tingling hands traveled down the calluses on her foot, the space between her toes, and her aching arches.

She poured more on her scars and wondered if the discoloring would fade with time.

As she massaged the oil, she rebuked herself.

She was lucky.

She could hide the flaw with clothes while others were forced to display them with pride.

As she admired the glow produced on her skin, she thought of the admiration she felt for him the moment she saw how he ignored his deformity.

Despite the bravado, he wouldn't let her touch it.

Her disappointment about the denied intimacy was ill-founded.

He added salt to the wound when he stole her horse.

She thought she would never forgive him, but she learned of his reasons soon after.

Rather than feeling alarmed, she understood.

She capped the lid and rotated it until shut firmly.

She bent to blow out the solitary candle almost to its base.

Before she killed the flame, she glanced at the flowers at the foot of her mattress.

The card bore only "To Song" and "From Junior", but it was his pseudonym at the bottom which made her smile.

With effort, she pursed her lips, and she extinguished the light.

--

Her loose hair coiled around her neck during the night. She shifted to free herself from the tangle, but it only constricted more. A lone tear traveled the contours of her face.

_The smell of burning choked her into awaking. The room was alight in flames and she flung her covers off in disbelief. Desperately, she found the sliding door and flung it open. She looked unworldly with her long hair and white gown streaming behind her. She anticipated the flames at her heal, and she fought to control sleep-weary legs. _

"_Mother!" _

_Uttered too soft, the words served only to propel her forward. _

_She tasted sweat before she could close her mouth, but she found the saline oddly soothing. _

_She found the door and thrust it open with as much strength she could find in her quivering form. The house was nearly consumed now. _

_Her mother stirred in her slumber as Song shook her awake. Like a child, Song helped her mother dress and took her gnarled hand. Song opened the window and moved so the half-awake woman could escape the flames. More heat surfaced with the sound of crackling wood. Song could feel her back bake. _

_With a thud her mother maneuvered out the window and Song relaxed slightly. _

_She crawled through the window. She placed her feet at the base and pushed off. She soared through the air until she landed on her knees. The impact _

_Her face twisted in bittersweet relief and she buried her nose into the grass. _

_She found she was choking back tears and her shoulders convulsing uncontrollably. _

_Her mother began beating her back. _

_She knew her hair was burning. She had anticipated it from the beginning._

_She stiffened and accepted the needed abuse. She closed her eyes and saw images of two wanted pictures._

_The words 'those who harbor these traitors will be punished' flashed in her mind. _

Her eyebrows unfurled, and the acknowledged sacrifice calmed her thudding heart_. She let the sent of burnt wood diminish reproach._

---

Author's Note

I've decided that due to growing antipathy to the story, I'm going to end it here. I have finals this week and I'm working on scholarships during the break, so I'm unsure if I could find it in myself to continue. Thanks again to those who've been very encouraging and urging me to improve. I hope to write more during the long break from avatar ;)


End file.
